THE MARRIAGE
IT is difficult, nay impossible, now to fix the exact date of the
secret, but definite, understanding between the Duke of York and Anne
Hyde.
Macpherson places it in 1657. James, he says, “had fallen in love with
Anne when the Chancellor and he were on ill terms,”[95] but the
probabilities point to the Paris visit already described. This would
give a reason for the Prince’s lingering on in the French capital at
that time, for he appears then to have been treated by the Court of
France with very little consideration, a state of things which he was by
no means the person to endure meekly, proud and punctilious as he could
show himself to be.[96]
Footnote 95:
Macpherson’s “Original Papers: Life of James II., by himself.”
Footnote 96:
Thurloe Papers.
It was, by the way, then—if at all—that his sister Mary made the secret
marriage with the younger Harry Jermyn, formerly a suitor of Nan
herself, though the fact of such a union is more than doubtful.[97]
Footnote 97:
“Life of Henrietta Maria.” J. A. Taylor.
However, James himself acknowledges that it was when the Princess and
her train came to Paris that he was first attracted to the young maid of
honour. He says that she brought “his passion to such an height as
between the time he first saw her and the winter before the King’s
restoration he resolved to marry none but her, and promised to do it,
and though at first when the Duke asked the King his brother for his
leave, he refused and diswaded him from it, yet at last he opposed it no
more, and the Duke married her privately, owned it some time after, and
was ever after a true friend to the Chancellor for several years.”[98]
Footnote 98:
Macpherson’s “Original Papers: Life of James II., by himself.”
We are here given a period between the summer of 1656 and the winter of
1659-1660. As we know that the Duke’s campaigning had taken him away
from Paris in the autumn of 1657, the assumption is that some sort of
pledge passed between the lovers before this time, and that they had
then parted for some years with the knowledge of their jealously guarded
secret confined to themselves alone. No one seems really to have
suspected the truth till long afterwards, though there is a despatch
dated the 7th or 17th of August 1656 which has been supposed to refer to
this love affair, though it is hard to say on what grounds the
supposition is founded. The letter is from Ross to Secretary Nicholas.
“In England there is much bustle about choosing Parliament men.
Some counties have chosen Bradshaw, Ludlow, Salloway, Harrison
and Rich, at which Cromwell is so incensed that he has ordered
them to give bail to the majors general of their counties. My
wife is going to Dover to get a conveyance to go to the Duke of
York. I hear from young Musgrove that Mrs Benson is become ward
to a physician who lately applied to the Princess Royal to board
with her and one Bronkard who is with her and they are to go
with her on her next journey and be spies on the King’s
deportment.”[99]
Footnote 99:
“Calendar of Domestic State Papers,” edit. by M. A.
Everett-Green.
It is said that “Benson” is cypher for the Duke of York. Query, is Mrs
Benson intended for Anne Hyde? The date makes this supposition unlikely.
Even had there been any inkling of the affair it could scarcely have
been so soon, and such a storm of wrath was evoked by the discovery of
the contract in 1660 that it is most improbable that any suspicion of it
was afloat four years earlier.
Too many people were interested in so vital a question for the secret to
have been quite closely kept in such a case. It would have leaked out
somehow, a whisper here, a hint there, to ears only too ready to listen
to so choice a morsel of scandal, from lips equally ready and eager to
retail it. It is at least certain that for long after the Paris visit
Anne retained the affection and confidence of the Princess of Orange,
and we know that these were rudely shaken by the discovery when it was
made.[100]
Footnote 100:
“Lives of Princesses of England.” M. A. Everett-Green.
How the great secret was to be a secret no more, but the property of the
world at large, has now to be told.[101]
Footnote 101:
“Continuation of the Life of Edward, Earl of Clarendon,” by himself,
ed. 1759.
In some respects it is fairly easy to reconstruct the London of the
earlier Stuarts. Here and there one can trace, by the help of main
thoroughfares, the sites of buildings once famous, though now either
substantially changed or altogether non-existent. The south side of the
Strand in those days was lined with large and stately houses, mansions
in the true sense, each with its façade facing the street; and to the
rear its shady garden reaching to the river, where the water-gate with
its elaborate ironwork and lofty flanking pillars gave access to a
flight of steps, where a boat was commonly moored. The Thames was then
the chief and favourite highway of the city. Its shining surface was for
the most part alive with craft of every description, from the royal
barge, gaudy with profuse gilding and silken hangings, to the small boat
darting hither and thither, and holding perhaps but a single passenger.
Heavy loads would be going slowly down to Greenwich or Gravesend, a boat
full of cheerful citizens with violins on board rowing up to Chelsey
Reach, a market woman or two with their baskets crossing over from the
fields beyond the Tabard on the south side, a Templar embarking at
Whitehall stairs to hurry down to Alsatia—it was all a feast of colour
and life, such as, in one sense, has passed away from the scene for
ever.
One of the great houses occupying such a position was that known as
Worcester House.[102] It had been originally a residence of the bishops
of Carlisle, and it stood on the site of the present Beaufort Buildings,
between the Savoy and Durham Place. At the Reformation it became the
property of the Crown, and was granted to the founder of the Bedford
family, when it was known as Bedford House, till they removed to the
present Southampton Street and built there another Bedford House.
Footnote 102:
Besant, “Survey of London”; Wheatley, “London, Past and Present”;
Walford, “Old and New London.”
The house in the Strand then passed to Edward, second Marquess of
Worcester, the loyal Cavalier who held his strong castle of Raglan so
stoutly for the King, and who is, as well, remembered for his “Century
of Inventions” and his numerous scientific experiments. He died in 1667,
and his son Henry being created Duke of Beaufort in 1682 gave that name
to the block of houses now occupying the site. During the Commonwealth,
the house had been used for committees and was furnished by the
Parliament for the Scottish Commissioners. At one time Cromwell himself
had lived there,[103] but in May 1657 a Bill was passed to settle it on
Margaret, Lady Worcester. The Somersets having regained possession of
their house, Lord Worcester, twelve days after the Restoration, offered
it rent free to Edward Hyde, who, however, agreed to a lease at five
hundred pounds a year, looking on it merely as a temporary house,
intending to build for himself; an intention to be fulfilled before much
time was past.
Footnote 103:
Sir Henry Craik, “Life of Edward, Lord Clarendon.”
Here for the present, at any rate, the Chancellor, who had accompanied
his master on his triumphant return, took up his abode.
The pageant of the Restoration was possessing fully the mind and temper
of the people. The streets were daily thronged with eager, excited,
jubilant crowds, demonstrating their noisy welcome to the long
expatriated King. London was delirious for the time being with the
revulsion, and those who had endured years of exile and poverty were not
the least happy. Among these might be numbered the Hydes. The Chancellor
might certainly be considered to deserve a season of rest and prosperity
after so many strenuous years of service, and as soon as the King was at
Whitehall, firmly established in the house of his fathers, Hyde had
leisure to turn to his own affairs, and forthwith sent off for his
daughter Anne. It has been said that the Princess Mary’s suspicions had
been already aroused with regard to her brother James and her maid of
honour, and that she had therefore dismissed the latter from her
service, but if so it does not seem that she imparted such suspicions to
any one at that time, for certainly Hyde himself was then completely
ignorant of them. He was, as we have seen, a man of strong and tenacious
family affections, and for his elder girl he had a deep and enduring
love. “She being his eldest child he had more acquaintance with her than
with any of his children.”[104] Besides, another question with regard to
her was beginning to occupy his mind. Now that public affairs were
settling down peaceably in England, he bethought him of finding an
honourable establishment for his Nan, and it seems he had “an overture
from a noble family.”
Footnote 104:
“Life of Edward, Earl of Clarendon: Continuation,” by himself.
Since the quickly extinguished love affairs at The Hague in 1654-1655
nothing of the kind is recorded, and the Chancellor was fully alive to
the advisability of a suitable marriage for this his elder daughter, who
was now twenty-three, a mature age according to the ideas of the time.
Back, therefore, to England and to the new home in London, came Anne
Hyde, a stranger to her native land since her childhood, to be received
by her parents with exceeding joy.
It was, no doubt, to many of the long exiled Cavaliers a summer of hope,
destined, in many cases, to be unfulfilled. They looked forward eagerly
to the knitting together of ravelled skeins, to the renewal of old ties,
of old friendships; to the building up of home in the dear familiar
places so long laid waste and desolate.
So Edward Hyde and Frances his wife looked forward fondly to welcoming
their Nan, and cherished happy visions of a blithe bridal, of a new
relationship, new ties; of children’s children at their knees in God’s
good time.
They were keeping open house like their neighbours with lavish
hospitality, and perhaps Mistress Anne, in spite of the possession of
her momentous secret, and the anxiety inextricable from it, was not
averse to the intercourse now opened with the choicest spirits of that
English society which was re-forming itself around her.
In the wainscotted rooms of Worcester House they were made welcome.
Ormonde, tried and trusted, who had watched over the boyhood and shared
the exile of his king with selfless devotion; and Southampton, whose
memory could go back to the awful night, when he was keeping his vigil
by the body of his dead king in St James’s, and the muffled figure of
Cromwell stole into the dusky room to look at the calm face of his
victim; and Edward Nicholas, the Secretary, of whom it could be said
that there was “none more industrious, none more loyal, none less
selfish than he.”[105] These with their host could talk over the days of
strife and confusion, of rebellion and anarchy, wherein they had played
their parts; days past, so all trusted, never to return. Together they
could speak with hushed and saddened voices of lost friends and of the
master whom they had served so faithfully, yet failed to save. There,
too, often came John Evelyn, a friend true and loyal through long years.
“This great person,” he says, speaking of Hyde, “had ever been my
friend.” He would come by water from his house at Deptford—that Sayes
Court near which he was afterwards to discover the young Gibbons at work
on his great carving—and so, landing at the water-gate, would pass
through the garden into Worcester House. And there likewise would be
Morley, now Dean of Christ Church (who had come back before the
Restoration, being sent by Hyde to contradict the report of the King’s
apostacy), taking up once more the threads of the close friendship of
many years. Perhaps, too, Gilbert Sheldon, who had gone joyfully to meet
the returning king at Canterbury—now Dean of the Chapel Royal, but soon
to be Bishop of London—was there also, ready for an argument or dispute
with Morley, yet both of them united in virtue of long-standing
affection for the Chancellor.[106] And among them would be other and
younger guests: gallants scented and curled, in lace and satin, playing
the courtier to the daughters of the house, Anne and even little
Frances, or laughing with their young brothers, or, one of them, singing
a dainty madrigal or so to the music of a lute or virginals.
Footnote 105:
“Life of Edward, Lord Clarendon.” Sir Henry Craik.
Footnote 106:
_Dictionary of National Biography._
It was to all seeming a happy, sunny time, but suddenly into the midst
of the cheerful trifling was flung an announcement which was to prove,
with a vengeance, an apple of discord to all whom it could concern.
James, Duke of York, the King’s second brother, the heir presumptive to
the Crown, and the Chancellor’s elder daughter, Mistress Anne Hyde, were
married, and every one, whether remotely interested or no, stood aghast.
When the Duke first spoke to his brother on the subject is
doubtful,[107] but according to his own memoir it seems to have been
before the Restoration, possibly even at the time of the projected match
with Fatima Lambert, though as we have seen he did not openly give it as
a reason for his refusal.
Footnote 107:
“Original Papers containing Hist. of Gt. Britain,” arranged by John
Macpherson, 1775; extracts from “James II., by himself”: “The King at
first refused the Duke of York’s marriage with Mrs Hyde.”
Easy-going as Charles II. was on some points, he was naturally strongly
opposed to such a marriage for his brother as one with the Chancellor’s
daughter, since no possible advantage could result from it, and later,
when he did give his consent, he only reluctantly withdrew his
opposition.[108]
Footnote 108:
“Memoirs of the Court of Charles II.” Count Grammont, edit. Sir W.
Scott, revised ed. 1846, note 42.
Nevertheless James disregarded the fraternal disapprobation, without at
the time confessing the fact, for the marriage on which so much was to
hang took place at Breda on 10th November 1659.
The Princess of Orange and her three brothers were there alternately
with Brussels throughout that winter and the early part of the
succeeding spring.
Thurloe writes in March 1659-1660: “To-morrow I am parting for Antwerp,
whither the princess royal is going, being on her return from Breda. The
King of Scots goes with her to Antwerp, and from thence returns
specially hither, but both the dukes go through with her to Breda.”[109]
It is certain that though Mary was ignorant of the marriage she
suspected the existence of some understanding between her brother and
the maid of honour before the end of 1659, and on this account made no
difficulty of the latter’s retirement from her service.
Footnote 109:
“State Papers of John Thurloe, Esq.”
There is a consensus of evidence as to the date of the marriage. Among
others, Lady Fanshawe gives it.[110] She was certainly in Holland at the
time and it is possible that she was at Breda itself.
Footnote 110:
“Notes to the Memoirs of Ann, Lady Fanshawe” (_Chalmers’ Biographical
Dictionary_).
Who the witnesses of this union were cannot now be ascertained, and it
may be because of this fact that we are told that James could, if he
chose, have had the contract annulled at the time when the storm
broke.[111] It has indeed by some writers been termed a contract, only,
of marriage, but we shall see later that the validity was fully
established.
Footnote 111:
“Royalty Restored.” J. F. Molloy.
At any rate James now went to the King, and on his knees made a clean
breast of the affair, confessing the fact of his marriage in defiance of
the prohibition of the previous year, and entreating permission for a
public ceremony. Charles was, we are told, “greatly troubled with his
Brother’s Passion,” “which was expressed in a very wonderful manner and
with many tears, protesting that if his Majesty should not give his
consent, he would immediately leave the Kingdom, and must spend his life
in foreign parts.”[112]
Footnote 112:
“Life of Edward, Earl of Clarendon: Continuation,” by himself.
The King, as might be expected, was greatly dismayed and perplexed, as
the situation offered serious complications. He does not appear to have
shown then, nor later, much positive anger with his brother, but he was
far-seeing enough to fear the difficulties that would probably arise
from this unwelcome alliance, which might very well prove a terrible
stumbling-block in his way.
James meanwhile was vehement and determined. As to his threat of
self-expatriation, that was of course not to be thought of for a moment,
and the King in his perturbation sent for the Chancellor.
Probably Charles’ first feelings with regard to Hyde were those of
strong irritation, as it might easily transpire that the latter from
motives of ambition had, if not assisted, at least countenanced the
match.
However those old and tried friends, Ormonde, the new Lord Steward, and
Southampton, now Lord High Treasurer, were deputed to see and confer
with him first, before his interview with the King himself.
Hyde’s outburst of wrath and bitter grief on being told the news[113]
satisfied all parties that there was no collusion on his part, and when
Charles himself came into the room, he was softened by the father’s
evident distress, and spoke gently and kindly to his old servant.
Footnote 113:
“The Chancellor knew nothing of the Duke of York’s marrying his
daughter” (Macpherson Papers).
“Nobody was so surprised and confounded as the Chancellor himself,
who, being of a nature free from jealousy, and very confident of an
entire affection and obedience from all his children, and particularly
from that daughter whom he had always loved dearly, never had in the
least degree suspected any such thing, though he knew afterwards that
the Duke’s affection and kindness had been much spoken of beyond the
seas, but without the least suspicion in anybody that it could ever
tend to marriage” (“Life of Edward, Earl of Clarendon: Continuation,”
by himself).
The Duke of York himself next made his appearance, but possibly the
King, wishing to avoid a scene, or not thinking the moment a propitious
one for his brother to attempt any justification, took the latter away
with him, leaving Hyde for the present with his friends, who for their
part did their best to console him. They for one thing strenuously
upheld the fact of the marriage, of which the Chancellor, in his pain
and bewilderment, was at first doubtful, and indeed urged every ground
of comfort. For the time being, however, the angry father would listen
to no argument nor representation. Hurrying home he ordered his daughter
into close confinement, in the high-handed fashion which parents in
those days were in the habit of employing. He really seems, moreover—the
grave, sedate, well-balanced Chancellor—to have taken leave of his
senses, for he even seriously suggested sending the culprit to the
Tower, not to mention the extreme measure of cutting off her head.
Southampton, in his dismay at his old friend’s frenzy, had told the King
that it must be madness in some form,[114] saying that “His Majesty must
consult with soberer men, that He” (pointing to the Chancellor) “was
mad, and had proposed such extravagant things that he was no more to be
consulted.” However, without any question of Tower or block, Mistress
Anne was locked up in her father’s house, and apparently was destined to
remain in durance. Finding the rigorous treatment which, as it was, Hyde
chose to adopt, the King again sent for him, and taking him to task for
his harshness, interceded for the offending daughter. The Chancellor,
however subservient he could be, was not to be coerced on such a point,
and stood firm. He answered proudly, that “her not having discharged the
duty of a daughter ought not to deprive him of the Authority of a
Father, and therefore he must humbly beg His Majesty not to interpose
his commands against his doing anything that his own dignity required;
that He only expected what His Majesty would do upon the Advice He had
humbly offered to him, and when He saw that He would himself proceed as
He was sure would become him.” Charles, for his part, accepted this snub
direct with perfect docility, but the plot was destined to thicken
quickly, and neither of them could, as it turned out, prevent the march
of events, nor sever the offending pair.
Footnote 114:
“The behaviour of Lord Clarendon on this occasion was so extraordinary
that no credit could have been given to any other account than his
own” (Hallam’s “Constitutional History”).
In spite of her father’s vigilance, the Duke of York found means to
visit his wife during her incarceration, by the connivance of her maid,
Ellen Stroud, who had been a confidante from the beginning.[115]
Clarendon in his own Memoir uses the words: “By the administration of
those who were not suspected by him, and who had the excuse that they
‘knew that they were married.’” One other accomplice there seems to have
been.[116] It is almost certain that the girl’s mother was in the plot,
though how far must be a matter of conjecture, but before the esclandre
Sir Astley Cooper, after dining at Worcester House, said to Lord
Southampton, who was also present, that he was certain that Mistress
Anne was the wife of either the King or the Duke of York, judging by her
mother’s demeanour. This, it seemed, displayed the scarcely veiled
consideration due to the new rank, and an eager expectation of the
moment when concealment would be no longer necessary.
Footnote 115:
“The Duke came unknown to him” (“Continuation of the Life of Edward,
Earl of Clarendon,” by himself, ed. 1759).
Footnote 116:
“Soon after the Restoration the Earl of Southampton and Sir A. A.
Cooper dined at the Chancellor’s. On the way home Sir Anthony said:
‘Yonder Mrs Anne is certainly married to one of the brothers: a
concealed respect (however suppressed) showing itself so plainly in
the looks, voice and manner wherewith her mother carved to her or
offered her of every dish, that it is impossible but it must be so’”
(“Samuel Pepys and the World he Lived In.” Wheatley).
“Lord Shaftesbury told Sir Richard Wharton, from whom I had it, that
some time before the match was owned, he had observed a respect from
Lord Clarendon and his lady to their daughter that was very unusual
from parents to their children, which gave him a jealousy she was
married to one of the brothers, but suspected the King most.” As far
as one can judge, Clarendon himself was ignorant. (Burnet’s “History
of His Own Time,” Lord Dartmouth’s Notes.)
It is scarcely to be wondered at. Frances Hyde may have been prompted by
ambition, or simply by the desire to give her daughter her heart’s
desire without counting the cost or considering the consequences. In
either case it is hard to blame her, though her connivance places her on
a lower plane than her husband, with his high ideals of what was due to
the royal house, exaggerated as the feeling might be which made him say
that sooner than see her wife of the Duke, “I had much rather see her
dead, with all the infamy that is due to her presumption.”
Yet fate was too strong for him.
It was very likely easy enough for mother and bower-maid to arrange the
stolen meetings of the two, when we recollect the position of Worcester
House.
It was quite simple, in the velvet darkness of a summer night, for the
prince to come down in a wherry from Whitehall stairs to the water-gate
of the Chancellor’s house, which he would find unlocked, and so pass
through the silent garden where only the whisper of the leaves stirred
in the light wind fitfully, piloted by Ellen the maid, to the room where
Mistress Nan herself was waiting to keep tryst. No one else need be the
wiser—no one else knew, save Lady Hyde, and she would keep out of the
way carefully.
It was no doubt a halcyon time, that summer of the Restoration, for many
pairs of lovers, joined after long sundering to make reunion all the
dearer; and to Anne Hyde it was gilded twofold. Love triumphant burnt in
a clear and steady flame, and besides, there was the dazzling promise of
splendour and royalty. The moments hurried by all too swiftly in the
starlight. If his tongue was, as we are told, slow and halting, hers was
ready and swift, and there was, at any rate, the eloquence of clasped
hands, of eager eyes.
But matters were not to arrange themselves quite happily at present, and
the threads of the puzzle would need a very careful disentangling before
the cord would straighten out quite smooth and even.
Rumour had begun to be busy. Gossips talked of a contract. Pepys, who is
never very accurate, and who moreover constantly and unaccountably
betrays a prejudice against the lady, calls it a promise, only, of
marriage.[117]
Footnote 117:
“Diary of Samuel Pepys, 7th October 1660,” notes by Lord Braybrooke,
1906.
He gives the story that James, after the time-honoured manner of the
hero of melodrama, had signed this promise with his blood, that Anne had
carefully locked it up but that the Duke had found means to get this
important paper “out of her cabinet,” that the King wanted his brother
to marry her but that the latter “will not.” This remark about the King,
by the way, puts the account out of court. Sir John Reresby, more
good-natured but scarcely better informed, says the marriage or
betrothal probably took place either in January or February 1660, soon
after James returned to Flanders on the failure of Booth’s rising. We
have, however, much more definite evidence. In the deposition on oath of
the parties, to be noticed presently, the word contract is certainly
used, and the expression had to be defined. We shall see in what manner
this was done.
It is clear that the King very quickly made up his mind to countenance
the marriage. He said to Hyde himself that his daughter “was a Woman of
a great Wit and excellent parts, and would have a great power with his
brother, and that he knew she had an entire obedience for him her
Father, who he knew would always give her good counsel by which he was
confident that naughty people which had too much credit with his brother
and which had so often misled him, would be no more able to corrupt him,
but that she would prevent all ill and unreasonable attempts, and
therefore he again confessed that he was glad of it.”[118]
Footnote 118:
“Life of Edward, Earl of Clarendon: Continuation,” by himself.
This was, of course, a tribute to the Chancellor himself. Charles II.
was fully conscious of how much he had owed for many years to the
counsels and service of Hyde, and how important they were likely to
prove in the future; therefore his chief anxiety, at that time at any
rate, was to bind the latter’s interests to his own at all costs. He
also in the daily conference with the Chancellor on which he insisted,
used the common-sense argument that the latter “must behave himself
wisely, for that the thing was remediless”—in other words, that what was
done could not be undone, a highly characteristic attitude on the part
of the speaker.
But if the King was prepared to be reconciled to the match, no other
member of the royal family could be said to tolerate the idea, certainly
not the queen-mother, who was almost beside herself with fury. Anne’s
late mistress, the Princess Royal, was also deeply incensed, resenting
the affront all the more from the favour she had lavished for so many
years on her maid of honour. The storm so evoked raged with more or less
violence through the autumn. The wrathful letters written by his mother,
on the first intelligence, James had shown to Anne, and before he set
out to meet his elder sister, who was on her way to England, he came
openly to Worcester House, and taking the Chancellor aside, said to him
in a whisper that “he knew that he had heard of the matter, that when he
came back he would give full satisfaction, and that he was not to be
offended with his daughter.”
What answer Hyde chose to make on this occasion we do not know, nor how
much he suspected, but the “matter,” as the Duke called it, had already
been made absolutely sure.
Worcester House had been the scene, not only of romance, of love-trysts,
of secret meetings on summer nights, but it had witnessed a union which
was to have far-reaching results for the realm of England.
On the night of 3rd September 1660, James, Duke of York, and Anne Hyde,
did for the second time plight their faith either to other.[119]
Footnote 119:
“Memoirs of the Court of England under the Reign of the Stuarts,” John
Heneage Jesse; Macpherson’s “Original Papers”; “Memoirs for History of
Anne of Austria,” Madame de Motteville, 1725.
The officiating priest was the Duke’s chaplain, Dr Crowther, Lord Ossory
(the son of Ormonde) giving away the bride, and another witness was
present in the person of the maid Ellen Stroud, who had so often
connived at the Duke’s visits, and who now, with the ease of long
practice, smuggled these persons into the house. Lady Hyde was certainly
not there, though it is quite possible that she was aware of the
transaction.[120]
Footnote 120:
“Memoirs of the Court of England under the Reign of the Stuarts.” John
Heneage Jesse.
As to the ceremony itself, we have the depositions, as before mentioned,
of all present, solemnly and severally attested, which afterwards passed
into the possession of John Evelyn.[121]
Footnote 121:
Original Depositions formerly in the possession of John Evelyn. MS.
18,740. B. M.
The first of these may suffice.
“I, James Duke of York do testify and declare that after I had
for many months sollicited Anne my wife in the way of marriage,
I was contracted to her on the 24th November 1659, at Breda in
Brabant and after that tyme and many months before I came into
England I lived with her (though with all possible secrecy) as
my Wife and after my coming into this Kingdome, And that we
might observe all that is enjoyned by the Church of England I
married her upon the third of September last in the night
between 11 and 12 at Worcester House, my Chaplain, Dr Crowther
performing that office according as is directed by the Book of
Common Prayer the Lord Ossory being then present and giving her
in marriage of the truth of all which I do take my corporall
oath this 18 February 1660-61. JAMES.”
The bride followed, and each of the witnesses deposed in much the same
terms, appending their signatures with the exception of Ellen the maid,
who, as was usual in a person of her class at that time, was unable to
write, and therefore “made her marke.”
It is very important here to notice that the depositions were further
endorsed thus:
“James Duke of York and Anne Hyde Duchess of York having been married at
Breda.”
The Worcester House ceremony was therefore to be regarded as simply a
re-marriage to guard against any possible doubts or difficulties that
might subsequently arise. It was by no means unheard-of for a marriage
to be repeated in form where there existed any suspicion as to complete
regularity, but this did not render the previous solemnisation less
binding on the parties. Considering the character of Anne, who showed
herself from first to last a proud, resolute, as well as ambitious
woman, the inference is that she had looked on the Breda ceremony as
much more than a mere betrothal. Putting aside the strong, even stern,
religious principles in which she, the pupil of Morley, had been
educated and which she had evinced from childhood, one can arrive at but
one conclusion as far as she was concerned.
But an event was to happen in the same month of September, which for the
time being was to put aside the thought of everything else.
Smallpox, the terrible scourge of the age, busy at the dangerous season
of the falling leaf, smote the youngest son of the royal house, and on
the 22nd, Henry, Duke of Gloucester, was dead in the flush of his early
youth.
He had abundantly proved himself, in the Spanish campaign, a gallant
soldier at the side of his brother James, and if there were already
signs manifested that he was not altogether untouched by some of the
failings of his race, that question must be suffered to sleep with him.
In 1659, when he had been created by letters patent Duke of Gloucester
and Earl of Cambridge, he had also been invested with the Garter at The
Hague by Sir Edward Walker, Garter King-at-Arms, but he was never
installed.[122]
Footnote 122:
Sandford’s “Genealogical History.”
In the anger and excitement consequent on the discovery of the Duke of
York’s stolen marriage, the younger brother must needs put in his word.
He did not like Mistress Anne. He vowed with boyish petulance that he
hated “to be in the room with her, she smelt so strong of her father’s
green bag.”[123] And perhaps, who knows? the impatient words may have
rankled in the mind of the latter, though it mattered little after all.
Footnote 123:
“Memoirs of the Court of England under the Reign of the Stuarts.” John
Heneage Jesse.
All too soon, alas! the grave closed over the fair young head, and one
forgets all that is best forgotten. We only think tenderly of Henry
Stuart, as the loving child who sat on his doomed father’s knee at that
last piteous interview in St James’s Palace, the day before the fatal
30th January, and promised fealty to the brother who was next to claim
it, with the unquestioning obedience of childhood.
[Illustration:
HENRY, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER
]
Charles II., callous as he was steadily becoming to his better feelings,
grieved bitterly at the loss of his young brother,[124] and this
unexpected sorrow probably helped to soften him with regard to events
which were soon to follow. Over in France, too, the little sister
Henrietta, whose short intercourse with her brother had been marked by
their mother’s unjust persecution of him, wept passionately for him, as
she had been eagerly looking forward to seeing him again during the
visit she and her mother were on the point of paying to England. At the
boy’s funeral in Westminster Abbey his brother James was chief
mourner.[125]
Footnote 124:
Sandford’s “Genealogical History.”
Footnote 125:
“Royalty Restored.” J. F. Molloy.
Meanwhile, immediately following the arrival of the Princess of Orange,
a mysterious silence fell on everything concerned with the marriage of
the Duke of York. To Anne, waiting in her seclusion at Worcester House
for both the return of her husband and for the birth of their child, now
near at hand, the suspense must have been little short of maddening. As
we have seen, the queen-mother’s bitter letter to her son on the score
of the marriage which she believed to be not yet accomplished, had been
shown to his wife. The anger of the Princess Mary, too, deep as it was,
could not account for the Duke’s non-appearance. Had he not made
assurance doubly sure by the second ceremony? What then was brewing?
The clue to the mystery lay in the infamous conspiracy now to be
related.
Sir Charles Berkeley, belonging at this time to the Duke of York’s
household, and certain others, were destined to prove themselves with a
vengeance, the “naughty people” whom Charles II. trenchantly denounced
as having too much weight with his brother.
There is no evidence that the queen-mother had any knowledge whatever of
the matter. Passionate, prejudiced, and headstrong as Henrietta Maria
had often shown herself, it is impossible to attach to her any of the
guilt of this abominable plot, although it is true that it played into
her hands; but she was far too outspoken and impetuous to be concerned
in it, or to be taken into the confidence of the conspirators.
The Berkeley above mentioned, who was nephew to John, Lord Berkeley of
Stratton, James’ former tutor and bad adviser, had, it appears, himself
fallen in love with Mistress Hyde, and his suit being rejected, made up
his mind to gain her on any terms. It is to be supposed that he was
ignorant of the Worcester House re-marriage, but at this moment he came
forward and with devilish effrontery declared that the unhappy girl had
been his mistress, succeeding, moreover, in convincing Jermyn, Arran,
and Talbot of the truth of this assertion.[126]
Footnote 126:
“Memoirs of the Court of Charles II.” Count Grammont, edit. Sir W.
Scott, revised ed. 1846.
Besides his own ulterior views, Berkeley was influenced by an inveterate
spite against the Chancellor, and being entirely unscrupulous he took
this dastardly means of gratifying his enmity.
The curious point about this transaction is the ease with which the Duke
of York fell into the trap; but we are here confronted with the most
salient point of his character, which has been noticed previously. He
possessed what might be called an obstinate fidelity to his friends, or
those whom he chose to consider as such, and a singular obtuseness as to
the nature of their motives. Long before, as we have seen, he had
quarrelled with his elder brother because Charles had discovered the
treason of the elder Berkeley in “trafficking” with Cromwell, and had
refused to dismiss him from his service: now he clung stubbornly to the
nephew, believing, in spite of his own deep anguish, the horrible
slanders which the latter had coined with regard to his wife. It was
just this trait in the character of James II. which was to prove his
undoing at the close of his stormy reign. He trusted traitor after
traitor, almost against the evidence of his senses, till the end came,
and crown and kingdom had passed from him for ever.
On this occasion there is ample evidence of James’ misery and despair.
He was, besides, in deep grief for the death of his brother the Duke of
Gloucester, who had been so closely associated with him through the
Spanish campaign, and whom he loved with a protecting and indulgent
affection: and indeed at this time he had himself fallen ill, having
refused food in his grief.
And now, just a month after Gloucester’s untimely death, in the midst of
this web of deceit, of false witness, of distress and unbearable
anxiety, an event occurred to which the persons most nearly concerned
looked with mingled sentiments, but which was likely to prove of
profound consequence to the kingdom. On 22nd October, Anne, Duchess of
York, gave birth to her first-born son.
As matters then were, this child, it must be remembered, stood in the
line of succession, the King not being yet married; and he, at any rate,
fully recognised the importance of the occasion, for he despatched Lady
Ormonde and Lady Sunderland (Waller’s “Sacharissa” of other days) to
Worcester House to be present at the birth of the expected heir.[127]
Dean Morley, Anne’s spiritual adviser since her childhood, was also
summoned, and in view of the aspersions against her now current, the
poor mother was solemnly exhorted in that extreme hour to make
profession on oath of her innocence in respect of Berkeley’s hideous
accusations, which she did with a vehement earnestness and passion in a
degree which seems to have carried conviction to those present.
Footnote 127:
“Life of Henrietta Maria.” J. A. Taylor.
It also appears that the King at this time laid the facts of the
contract at Breda before “some Bishops and Judges,” and that they
pronounced that “according to the doctrine of the Gospel and the law of
England it was a good marriage.”[128] The second ceremony, that at
Worcester House, which was thus rendered unnecessary, was kept for some
time a secret, but John Evelyn was one of the first persons to have any
accurate information on the subject. As early as the 7th October we find
him entertaining at a farewell dinner a French count with Sir George
Tuke, “being sent over by the Queen Mother to break the marriage of the
Duke with the daughter of Chancellor Hyde. The Queen would fain have
undone it, but it seems matters were reconciled on great offers of the
Chancellor to befriend the Queen, who was much in debt, and was now to
have the settlement of her affairs to go through his hands.”[129]
Footnote 128:
Bishop Burnet’s “History of His Own Time.”
Footnote 129:
“Diary of John Evelyn,” introduction by Austin Dobson.
Evelyn is too weighty and dispassionate as a chronicler for his evidence
to be set aside, but this account reads a little strangely in the face
of Hyde’s anger and dismay, which no one supposed other than sincere,
when he was first made aware of the matter, even begging the King’s
permission to give up office and go far from the Court. On this point
Burnet further declares that all Clarendon’s enemies rejoiced at the
marriage, “for they reckoned it would raise envy so high against him,
and make the King jealous,” and so “end in his ruin.” One must arrive at
the conclusion that finding how far things had gone, the Chancellor had
for his own sake, his daughter’s, and indeed for that of the country,
set himself to deprecate the wrath of Henrietta in the readiest manner
possible to him. Most of her dower-lands had been parted among the
regicides, and he was probably able to adjust some sort of restitution.
Pepys, inquisitive as he was, like all inveterate gossips, was entirely
ignorant of the real facts of the case till much later. On 24th October
he speaks of the Duke’s “amour,” though he knows of the birth of the
child. Even as late as 16th December he writes: “To my Lady’s [Lady
Sandwich] and staid with her an hour or two, talking of the Duke of York
and his lady, the Chancellor’s daughter, between whom, she tells me, all
is agreed, and he will marry her.” This, it must be remembered, is more
than three months after the Worcester House ceremony.
But before this the principal enemy to the marriage had arrived in
England.
On 2nd November King Charles came up by water from Gravesend,[130]
escorting, with all due respect, “Mary the Queen Mother.” Henrietta, it
must be remembered, was always known in England in her own time as Queen
Mary.
Footnote 130:
“Side-lights on the Stuarts.” Inderwick.
[Illustration:
HENRIETTA MARIA, “MOTHER QUEEN”
]
In the grey November weather the banks of the Thames were not at their
best, neither were the feelings of the exiled Queen, who was coming home
at last. She too was changed. The short-lived beauty of expression and
grace and vivacity had long fled, and it was a “little plain old woman”
who sat on the deck of the royal barge, and gazed at scenes once
familiar through a mist of tears. So she came back, an honoured guest
indeed, but with all the wine of life drained to the lees, to a country
which had dealt her the heaviest blows a woman could endure, in the
past. She was coming, too, with a heart full of bitter wrath against the
upstart who had forced herself, so she considered, into the circle of
royalty. The Queen’s extreme anger, it may be noted, was, in her case,
in some degree inconsistent, seeing that at one time she had
contemplated a match between her elder son, the King of England (at that
time if not _de facto_ at least _de jure_), and one of Mazarin’s nieces,
that bevy of lovely Mancini sisters, whose beauty was so famous in their
day, for they, we are told, “sprang from the dregs of the people.”[131]
Otherwise no one can wonder at the indignation of the haughty Bourbon
princess, the daughter, on one side at any rate, of a line of kings (and
even of the proud Hapsburg blood, through the once despised Medici
ancestry); and she came now, as she said, “to prevent with her authority
so great a stain and dishonour to the Crown,” by hindering her son James
at all costs from publicly recognising his marriage.[132] Indeed her
anger knew no bounds, and all her old prejudices against Anne’s father
had awakened once more, adding fuel to the fire. At the moment, too, the
Duke of York played into his mother’s hands, for he was then, as it
were, reeling from the frightful blow of Berkeley’s base accusations,
and only ready in his despair to repudiate alike his wife and child.
Footnote 131:
“Lives of the Queens of England.” Agnes Strickland.
Footnote 132:
“Life of Henrietta Maria,” J. A. Taylor; “Princesses and Court
Ladies,” Arvède Barine.
There was also, it appears, a general opinion that the whole business
spelt disaster to the Chancellor.
On 6th November, just after the Queen’s arrival therefore, Pepys notes
that “Mr Chetwind told me that he did fear that the late business of the
Duke of York’s would prove fatal to my Lord Chancellor,”[133] and the
latter in his own History avers that he “looked upon himself as a ruined
person,” and says bitterly that previous to this the Duke’s manner to
him “had never anything of grace in it.”[134] Meanwhile Mary, Princess
of Orange, had also come to England, and was adding her voice to the
chorus of indignant reprobation. She could not for a moment think, so
she said, “of yielding precedence to one whom she had honoured over much
by admitting her into her service as maid of honour.”
Footnote 133:
“Diary.” 6th Nov. 1660.
Footnote 134:
“Life of Edward, Earl of Clarendon: Continuation,” by himself. “Said
to be helped on by enemies of Hyde, to bring disgrace upon him.”
So matters stood when suddenly a complete reversal, in one direction,
occurred.
Whether Berkeley was touched by his master’s misery, which to say the
least of it seems unlikely, or, which is more probable, he foresaw that
his own ends were unlikely to be served as he expected by the slander he
had coined, he made at this time a full confession, and a powerful
auxiliary also came forward in the person of the King, always henceforth
a kind and steady friend to his sister-in-law.
On escaping from the sea of intrigue which had almost fatally engulfed
her, Anne did at least display great generosity and a lofty capacity for
forgiving injuries, for she pardoned Berkeley the vile slanders with
which he had loaded her name, and even suffered him to kiss her hand in
token of amnesty, when with brazen effrontery he presented himself
before her. Perhaps the revulsion was too great at the time to admit of
anything but relief; perhaps she thought she could afford to be
magnanimous, seeing that her enemy had found himself unable to drag her
from her pride of place.
James, on his part, at once and joyfully acknowledged the marriage in
defiance of his family, and sent an affectionate message to his wife,
“bidding her to keep up her spirits for Providence had cleared her
aspersed fame, and above all to have a care of his boy and that he
should come and see them both very shortly.” It is evident that he had
only been waiting for the chance, for Lady Ormonde, who with her husband
was always a stanch friend to the Hydes, and had been steadily convinced
of Anne’s innocence, said of the Duke that she “perceived in him a kind
of tenderness that persuaded her he did not believe anything amiss.”
He had now to withstand anew his mother’s resentment, for when they
first met, after his reconciliation with Anne, the Queen refused to
speak to her son. She, however, adroitly turned the circumstances of the
King’s acknowledgment of the match into a means of gaining his consent
to his younger sister’s marriage, for she represented to him that he
must consent to the Princess Henrietta becoming Duchess of Orleans, for
“she could not suffer her to live at his Court to be insulted by Hyde’s
daughter.” The fact of the case was that in England the Duchess of York
would take precedence of the Princess. Whether this consideration
weighed with Charles or not, he made then no opposition to the marriage
of his favourite and “dearest sister” with the cousin for whom he
entertained, with good reason, the strongest dislike and contempt.
On 26th November Lord Craven was writing to the Queen of Bohemia of
Anne: “She is owned in her family to be Duchess of York, but not at
Whitehall as yet, but it is very sure that the Duke has made her his
wife. Your Majesty knows it is what I have feared long although you were
not of that opinion. The Princess [Mary] is much discontented at it, as
she has reason.”
He wrote again on the 28th: “I cannot tell what will become of your
godson’s business: the child is not yet christened, but it is
confidently reported that it shall be within a few days, and owned. The
Princess is very much troubled about it; the queen is politic and says
little of it. There is no question to be made but that they are married.
They say my lord Chancellor shall be made a duke.”[135]
Footnote 135:
“James II. and his Wives,” Allan Fea; “Life of Henrietta Maria,” J. A.
Taylor.
The Duke of York was godson of his aunt Elizabeth, it must be noted
here.
So things were, but before the year had ended death was to lay once more
effacing fingers on discord and bitterness.
The Princess Royal, who had come, as we have seen, to rejoice with one
brother on his long delayed Restoration, to resent hotly the other’s
unwelcome marriage, was seized like Henry of Gloucester with smallpox on
the 18th December.
It has been hinted that she was a party to Berkeley’s plot, though, in
view of her character, this is very unlikely; and it is also said that
on her uneasy deathbed in the grip of that ghastly and relentless
pestilence, she declared herself repentant of the part she had taken
against her brother’s wife and her own quondam maid of honour.[136]
Footnote 136:
“Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia.” M. A. Green, revised by S. C. Lomas.
Be that as it may, Mary Stuart passed away at Somerset House on
Christmas Eve 1660, just three months after her youngest brother.[137]
Footnote 137:
Madame—Julia Cartwright (Mrs Ady).
On the 29th December her body was brought by torchlight to Westminster
Abbey, and laid in the Stuart vault by that of Gloucester, her brother
James again officiating as chief mourner. On this occasion one can only
contemplate with amazement what appears the entire callousness of the
queen-mother. Whether her anger at the marriage of the Duke of York
occupied her mind to the exclusion of all natural affection, it is hard
to say, but there is no record of any great grief on her part for poor
young Gloucester’s untimely end, and she certainly showed extraordinary
indifference with regard to her elder daughter, according to most
chroniclers; though one account certainly does credit her with the wish
to remain with her till forbidden by the doctors. In terror for her
youngest, the mother fled from Somerset House when the sickness declared
itself, and betook herself with the Princess Henrietta to St James’s,
leaving Mary to her fate. But it is to be remarked, that from the time
her youngest child was restored to her by Lady Dalkeith after their
escape, the Queen concentrated all the force of her affection on her.
Possibly the fact of her being allowed to bring her up in her own
religion undisturbed may have had something to do with it, but the fact
remains that for the last few years of her life she showed comparatively
little affection for her other children.
One of Mary’s oldest attendants was destined to make her home in
England. The minister Van der Kirckhove Heenvliet died in March of this
year, and his widow, Lady Stanhope, to whom Charles II. allowed the
title of Lady Chesterfield, to which her first husband would have
succeeded, married as her third husband the adventurous Daniel O’Neill
of whom mention has already been made.[138]
Footnote 138:
Lady Chesterfield was with the Princess at her death. (“Lives of the
Princesses of England,” M. A. Everett-Green.)
“The Tower of London,” Richard Davey. Daniel O’Neill had been
imprisoned in the Tower in 1643, but escaped and reached Holland in
safety.
Immediately on the death of the Princess Royal, the queen-mother
suddenly announced to her son James that she withdrew her opposition to
his marriage. It is just possible that the loss of her daughter may have
exercised a softening influence, but it is more probable that this
change of front was owing to a warning from Mazarin, who sent her a
peremptory message to keep on good terms alike with her sons and the
English Ministers of State, and the impoverished Queen could not afford
to disregard the powerful adviser of Anne of Austria.[139] Whatever the
motive, the result was plain. Three days after the funeral of Mary, her
mother so far did violence to her own strong and bitter prejudice as to
consent to receive not only her son, but the hated daughter-in-law. On
1st January Pepys records the fact: “Mr Moore and I went to Mr Pierce’s,
in our way seeing the Duke of York bring his lady to wait upon the
Queen, the first time that ever she did since that business, and the
Queen is said to receive her with much respect and love.”
Footnote 139:
“Life of Henrietta Maria.” J. A. Taylor.
Hyde was informed of this communication by that industrious go-between
Walter Montague, who was in England at this time.
This latter statement may be taken with a grain of salt, but Henrietta
did control her feelings sufficiently to behave with dignity and
self-restraint. As she passed to dinner, her ladies following her,
through the corridor of St James’s Palace, Anne was waiting, white and
trembling, with a thickly beating heart, and she fell on her knees as
“Mary the Queen Mother” swept by in her mourning robes. With the stately
gesture the latter could assume at will, she turned, and raising the
girl, she kissed her, and leading her to the table placed her at her
side.[140]
Footnote 140:
“Calendar of Domestic State Papers.” 3rd January 1661.—Secretary
Nicholas to Bennet: “The Duke and Duchess then came to Court. The
Queen received them very affectionately.”
On the same day, the Queen made a still further concession. She
consented to see Hyde himself, receiving him graciously and speaking at
length of the matter in hand. “He could not,” she said, “wonder, much
less take it ill, that she had been offended with the Duke, and had no
inclination to give her consent to his marriage, and if she had in the
Passion that could not be condemned in her, spoke anything of him that
he had taken ill, he ought to impute it to the Provocation she had
received though not from him. She was now informed by the King, and
well-assured that he had no hand in contriving that Friendship, but was
offended with that Passion that really was worthy of him. That she could
not but confess that his Fidelity to the King her husband was very
eminent and that he had served the King her son with equal fidelity and
extraordinary success. And therefore she had received his daughter as
her Daughter and heartily forgave the Duke and her and was resolved ever
after to live with all the affection of a Mother towards them. So she
resolved to make a Friendship with him, and hereafter to expect all the
offices from him which her kindness should deserve.”[141]
Footnote 141:
“Continuation of the Life of Edward, Earl of Clarendon,” by himself.
Hyde, as might be expected, showed himself equal to the occasion, though
he must have felt that the Queen did him no more than justice when she
thus acknowledged his services to her husband and son.
“She could not,” answered the courtier, “show too much anger and
aversion, and had too much forgotten her own honour and dignity if she
had been less offended.”
But nevertheless the wounds which Henrietta’s unbridled tongue had
inflicted in time past were not so easily healed. Clarendon himself
remarks bitterly: “From that time there did never appear any want of
kindness in the Queen towards him, whilst he stood in no need of it, nor
until it might have done him some good.”[142]
Footnote 142:
“Life of Henrietta Maria.” J. A. Taylor.
Yet a truce was signed as it were, and peace was in a fair way to be
established. But still the Chancellor was never entirely reconciled to
his daughter’s lofty alliance, on which he looked with doubt and
misgiving to the end.
Some ten days before this momentous interview Evelyn speaks of the
marriage as fully acknowledged. Under the date of 22nd December he
writes:
“The marriage of the Chancellor’s daughter being now newly
owned, I went to see her, she being Sir Richard Browne’s
intimate acquaintance, when she waited on the Princess of
Orange. She was now at her father’s at Worcester House in the
Strand. We all kissed her hand as did also my Lord Chamberlain
Manchester, and the Countess of Northumberland. This was a
strange change. Can it succeed well?”[143]
Footnote 143:
“Diary of John Evelyn,” ed. Edw. Bray, 1850.
Strange indeed, and no one can wonder that a mind so thoughtful,
uplifted, and restrained as that of John Evelyn, who had known the
father through good and evil days, who remembered from her childhood the
girl, now a princess of England, should doubt the final issue of such a
turn of fortune.
Two days after Anne’s reception at Court her child was baptized at
Worcester House by the name of Charles, the King and Monk, now Duke of
Albemarle, being godfathers, while the queen-mother sealed her
reconciliation by undertaking the office of godmother, the other being
Lady Ormonde, and the boy was created Duke of Cambridge.
During this same month of January, Henrietta closed her first visit to
England after the Restoration. It had not been a happy one. It had been
clouded with heavy grief and bereavement, besides reviving poignant
recollections, and she had moreover sustained the vexation and
disappointment which her second son’s marriage had inflicted on her,
from which she had by no means recovered, in spite of her altered
attitude towards the offenders.
[Illustration:
JOHN EVELYN
]
She was impatient to escape, and eager besides for the marriage of her
sole remaining daughter, the disastrous results of which it was
impossible for her to foresee. She was also anxious, on account of her
health, to visit the baths of Bourbon which then enjoyed a great
reputation.
The King accompanied his mother and sister to Portsmouth, where they
embarked, but the Duke of York remained in London. He was still ill and
depressed. He had passed through a period of acute pain and anxiety; he
had really felt deeply the death of the sister who had always been to
him, at least, staunchly affectionate, at a time when he needed
affection, and now he “being indisposed was at Whitehall with the
Dutchess.”
At the time of the Restoration Hyde had refused a peerage, but now, for
obvious reasons, he signified his acceptance of one, and on the 6th
November he had taken his seat as Baron Hyde of Hindon in Wilts (near
Hatch, where Laurence Hyde, his ancestor, had lived). Moreover the King
made him a grant of twenty thousand pounds out of the amount (fifty
thousand pounds) which Parliament had sent the latter at The Hague, at
which time the Duke of York, by the way, had received ten thousand
pounds and Gloucester five thousand pounds. Later, that is in April
1661, Hyde received his final honours, being created Earl of Clarendon
and Viscount Cornbury.
A closing epilogue to the drama of the marriage comes from the pen of
Lord Craven. Writing to the Queen of Bohemia on 11th January 1661 he
says: “I have this morning been to wait upon the duchess; she lies here
and the King very kind to her: she takes upon her as if she been duchess
this seven years. She is very civil to me.”[144] And on 23rd February:
“The greatest news we have here is that upon Monday last, the duke and
duchess were called before the Council and were to declare when and
where they were married and their answer was that they were married the
3rd of September last, in a chamber at Worcester House, Mr Crowther
married them; nobody but my Lord of Ossory and her maid Nell by; but
that they had been contracted long. That is all that I can hear of the
business.”[145]
Footnote 144:
“Lives of Princesses of England.” M. A. Everett-Green.
Footnote 145:
“Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia.” M. A. Green, revised by S. C. Lomas.
------------------------------------------------------------------------